


Addiction

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [62]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: "I'm addicted and I admit that I need help."2015 Christmas Drabble Collection





	

You awoke to the faint humming of his dreams. He always hummed when he dreamed, hummed words and thoughts, feelings. Every time it woke you, you could not help but smile. You turned in the bed, the silky sheets dancing across your skin and tugging away from his hips, to show you even more of his flesh. The pale whiteness almost as pure as starlight. **  
**

You could not get enough of him. Enough of his hums, and his skin, and his body.

One arm was draped across his face, hiding his beautiful cheeks and the subconscious smile that he always had when he slept. You shifted onto your elbows, watching the natural rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. Every exhale, there would be a few mumbled words. And you’d smile even more.

“Thranduil?” you murmured gently. He murmured, and he turned onto his side, facing you, but his arm only fell enough to show you his eyes that were closed, and, as a result, covered his mouth. “Thranduil?” you murmured again, and you took delight in the hum that answered. Another exhale. Your fingers untangled with the sheets and traced across his hips, up his slender side and tickling his ribs.

You were so entranced by the flesh your fingers explored, that when you reached his collarbone, you realized that he was no longer humming in his sleep. He was staring at you, his expression heavy with sleep, but his eyes dark and making you shiver.

“Good morning,” you whispered softly.

His lips twitched into a smile, and he murmured back, “Good morning. What are you doing?”

You traced your fingers down his collarbone. “Thinking of how much I love my husband… and how little I do to show it.” To punctuate your sentence, your sarcastic admittance, you ground your nail into his flesh. He winced slightly at the sharp pinch of pain.

“So little,” he agreed.

He pinned you with a fluid motion, his hips grinding into your own, and you arched slightly into him, begging him. But his grip did not release you, so that you could touch him as you so desperately wanted. Your hands were held tightly beside your head, on either side, framing you - binding you.

“I will not let you go until you say it.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Say what?” The grin you gave him was an epitome of torture. He leaned down, tracing a trail of kisses from your lips all the way down your neck. It was not until he nipped at your collarbone that you could scarce breathe. The pain was not at all like a pinch, but instead a soft little tug at the flesh.

“Tell me.”

 **“I’m addicted** ,” you breathed. His lips trailed lower and you squirmed, trying to reach for him, but he pressed more weight onto your wrists. “ **And I admit that I need help.** ” He hummed and the sound went straight through your skin, into your core. “Can you help me?”

He chuckled, nipping along your ribs. “I can do more than help.” As soon as he released your wrists, your hands went around his neck, tugging him back up to your level. “But I think… that I may be addicted too.”

“Such a shame,” you murmured, silencing his response with a kiss, and when you pulled away, your teeth gently tugged at his lower lip. “You know, they say that when two people are addicted to something, they should stay as far away from each other as possible. It helps in the recovery-”

“The problem is,” Thranduil cut you off, a wicked grin lighting up his face, “I’m addicted to you.”

You smiled, your fingers running through his hair. “How strange, I’m addicted to you, as well.” He kissed you, his lips lingering just long enough to make your body flood again with warmth. “I love you.”

He inhaled, and while one hand held him upright, the other trailed down your side, tickling you. You squirmed, a giggle escaping you. “I love you, too,” he said softly.

“Legolas will be waking soon.” Thranduil kissed you, silencing the talk of reason and rationality.

“Soon, but not now. Now I need to fuel my addiction.”

“The healers would disagree.”

“It’s a good thing I’m King. I can disobey their orders.” You giggled, but had no complaints. He was fueling your addiction too.


End file.
